Blood Feuds
by sakurazukamori
Summary: AU: Voldemort is destroyed... Hermione's life will never be the same again, but hope seems to come from the most unlikely source. Will Hermione have her happy ending or will it all be destroyed by the cruelty of one man? HGxHP [Ch.5 up]
1. The End

_Set after their Hogwarts years, focuses on Harry, Hermione, Draco and others. It does not really follow the events that transpired in HBP especially in regards to Dumbledore. Hope this doesn't deter you from reading it. _Characters copyrighted to J.K Rowling

**.:Chapter 1 – The End:.**

A biting wind swept through the charred and desolate remains of Godric's Hollow. Harry Potter stood, bloodstained and battle-weary, his wand hanging limply at his side. An endless labyrinth of shattered buildings and scorched earth separated him from a man who stood robed in black, and cloaked in darkness. A man who, for all of Harry's life, had tried to kill him and now finally had his chance.

The cold wind screeched through Harry's ears and tore at his already tattered robes exposing the deep gashes that lay riveted in his flesh. A puddle of crimson was growing beneath him as blood dripped from his sodden robes. He could feel himself swaying; his vision drifting in and out of focus yet still the menacing frame of Voldemort always remained the same.

The feeling of light-headedness overcame Harry and he grasped desperately for support as he felt his body's strength finally leave him. He was shaking all over, droplets of fever sweat had begun to appear over his skin mingling with the caked on blood. Unsteadily, he raised his hand to feel the side of his head; a warm dampness greeted his touch and when he looked at his fingertips he could see they were covered in blood. The blood from his temple began to flow freely now, carving out a path down his bruised and battered cheek.

"I give you credit Harry, you lasted longer than your parents did," hissed Lord Voldemort coldly, "but why prolong the inevitable?"

At the mention of his parents, Harry raised his emerald eyes to meet those of the _man _who had plagued his life like an incurable cancer. Voldemort's snake-like eyes narrowed at the sight of Harry's defiant glare. The boy was not broken, no, _not yet_, but that was a problem that could be easily remedied. The Dark Lord raised his wand revelling in the seeming helplessness of his victim.

"It's over Harry Potter!"

Harry's legs buckled beneath him; for the first time in seven long torturous years, Harry Potter accepted his fate. The images and sounds of his past flashed before his eyes in a stream of torture.

The lifeless body of Cedric...

the piercing screams of Cho...

the bloodied face of Ron.

Everything he had once held dear had been cruelly taken away from him, now he would join them and end his suffering. His eyes closed...

_Don't give up! Harry... don't!_

It was at that moment, that he began to hear a song, a song that he knew so well... the song of the Phoenix. It filled Harry with a renewed hope, a hope that he might be able to end this war now; all was not yet lost. Staggering to his feet, Harry raised his wand once more. This fight was not over, not yet.

Voldemort's jaw clenched in disgust as he too heard the sound grow ever closer. His knuckles cracked as he tightened his grip on his wand that still remained pointed at Harry.

"Dumbledore," he spat. "I knew it would only be a matter of time before you showed up to save him... _again_."

"This is a battle you cannot win, Tom," spoke a familiar voice from behind Harry.

Harry's head turned to meet the kindly gaze of his Headmaster - a warm feeling of relief washed over his exhausted and battered frame. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he even managed to muster a quivering smile.

"Oh, I beg to differ; his life is mine for the taking. Could it be that you crave death too?"

"On the contrary, it is my respect and understanding of the importance of life that has brought me here. This is something you will never understand, Tom," replied Dumbledore solemnly. "Sometimes in order for one to embrace life, one must make certain sacrifices."

For the first time, Dumbledore's eyes met with Harry's and a sudden realisation hit the young man. Pain shot through him, coursing through his veins, a pain like no other he had ever felt. The realisation was simple.

Dumbledore had come here knowing full well that he would never leave this forsaken place.

Tears of heartache trickled down Harry's face, weaving a path through the bloodstains and dirt. His head shook in silent disbelief at the event he was about to witness.

"Not even Dumbledore can save you now, Harry Potter!" screeched the Dark Lord as he raised his wand once more. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

In the moments that followed it was not Voldemort's cruel eyes that met his own, but the kind blue eyes of his smiling Headmaster. Seconds felt like an eternity as Harry watched the blinding green light envelop Dumbledore. He watched in horror as Albus' lifeless frame fell to the floor, but his death would not be in vain.

Raising his wand, he screamed out the words that would forever reverberate in his mind.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

* * *

Harry's body shot bolt upright, beads of cold sweat trickled down his torso as he awoke from the dream that had forever haunted his nights since that fateful day. His breathing was ragged as he clutched his head in his hands - a desperate attempt to contain the misery and the guilt he felt inside. He could feel his pulse pounding against the sides of his head, his heart knocking out a fearful rhythm.

_Why?_

_WHY?_

_Why am I always left behind?_

"Mmhh"

Slowly, his hands fell away from his face as he heard the soft murmuring of the woman who lay beside him. Harry turned his head towards her; his eyes traced the curves of her body, veiled beneath the bed sheets. He felt nothing.

Her mouth was slightly parted and he could hear her breathing, interrupted by gentle mumbles. He turned away from Hermione's sleeping body; the strong emotions he had once felt for her were gone now. His past had taken away from him the ability to love and to feel any kind of real emotion other than guilt and hate. With each passing day he felt himself slowly slip into the abyss of insanity, devoid of all emotion... an empty shell in an empty world.

* * *

Dawn was breaking through the thick cloak of night and Harry still sat on the edge of the bed, neither awake nor asleep. His empty stare was fixed on a photograph of Hermione, Ron and himself, all of them waving and smiling. It was the day they had received their NEWTs. They all looked so relieved like they hadn't a care in the world... little did they know what cruelty fate had in store for them. A loan tear fell from Harry's vacant, expressionless eyes. It was his fault, his fault that Ron was... dead.

He wanted to close his eyes and shut away their laughing faces, but every time he did Ron's lifeless face was there haunting him.

_Ron._

His body heaved as he choked on the lump of grief caught in his throat. He tried in vain to fight back a torrent of tears; tears for those he had lost and those he had hurt.

"Harry?" whispered a concerned voice.

A gentle touch on his exposed shoulder caused Harry to turn slightly to meet the worried face of Hermione Granger.

"You... had another nightmare, didn't you?" she questioned softly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" replied Harry offhandishly.

"Would you stop avoiding the question?"

"I'm not!" exclaimed Harry, more angrily than need be.

"Why don't you ever give me answer then?" persisted Hermione, withdrawing her hand from his shoulder.

Harry ran both of his hands through his raven-black hair, a familiar sign of exasperation that Hermione had been accustomed to throughout the past year. He couldn't understand why she had to push him so hard to tell her everything. She could never understand what he had been through... she could never understand the things he had seen.

"What do you want to hear Hermione! That I'm screwed up and you're the only good thing in my life, huh?" shouted Harry desperately. "Is that it!"

Hermione looked at the floor, her eyes brimming with tears. She had been in this situation so many times and each time it got more painful; getting Harry to open up to her was like getting blood out of a stone.

"Ok," conceded Hermione, "I... I guess you don't want to talk about it, fine."

"No, I don't," replied Harry abruptly.

Hermione moved herself closer to Harry who was still sitting on the edge of the bed. She pulled the bed sheets around her and once more placed her hand on his shoulder, her head leaning on his back.

"I'm just worried about you," she added, planting a soft kiss on the nape of his neck.

"Well there's no need for you to be" he retorted suddenly, his face turned towards her with an angry expression in his usually vacant eyes.

The look in Harry's eyes silenced Hermione, she knew better than to push him too hard. No matter how much she searched her lover's face for some semblance of emotion, she always found nothing. Since the death of Voldemort he had changed dramatically - neither words nor physical affection could reach him.

Hermione felt helpless and responded in the only way she really knew how. She brought herself so she was sitting next to Harry on the edge of the bed, bed sheets still wrapped around her fragile frame. She brought one of her hands up to his face, gently turning it towards her. His eyes looked down, avoiding her eye contact; deep down inside she could almost feel him trying to pull away from her touch. Slowly, she brought his face closer to her own and planted a gentle kiss on his soft lips. Her hands rested upon his face yet as the kiss deepened Harry pulled away.

"What's wrong?" questioned Hermione, a slight frown creasing her usually smooth brow.

She searched his eyes for an answer but they would not give one up.

"Just... don't," responded Harry - his voice a mere whisper.

Hermione slowly withdrew her hands from his face and crossed them in her lap. Harry turned away from her and focused his attention back on the photo. The seconds that passed between the two of them was excruciating; only the ticking of a clock broke the silence until Hermione asked the question she had been dreading to ask for the past year.

"Harry, I need to ask you something," she whispered. Dewy tears clung to her dark eyelashes as she fought against the urge to cry.

"Can't it wait?" came the emotionless reply.

"No it can't," replied Hermione, her voice also relegated to no more than a whisper. "Harry, do... do you still love me?"

Harry's green eyes met her own and held her gaze as a moment of silence passed between them.

"Well?" she pleaded.

Harry gingerly reached for her hand and gently placed it on his own cheek. Hermione felt her heart lurch in her chest as he leaned in towards her.

_This is what she wants._

He placed a kiss on her parted lips, gently at first, but then more tenderly. However the moment was brief...

Rising from the bed, he walked towards the wardrobe and grabbed his day robes. Without even looking behind him he left the room and closed the door. Hermione brought a hand up to her lips and closed her eyes, finally allowing her tears free passage down her pale cheeks. The kiss meant nothing to him; she meant nothing to him... her question was answered.

* * *

_A/N: I'm starting this fic back up again and this is a rewrite, well, more of a tweak of Chapter 1. There were a good few grammatical errors that needed to be sorted, doubt I've picked them all out though. Also Im going to give this fic an AU tag due to the events that transpired in HBP. Hope you enjoyed it and keep on reading. _


	2. Chance Encounters

_Welcome to Chapter 2 of 'Blood Feuds'! I hope you enjoy it. This is a revamp of the original, but not much is really different. Characters as always are copyrighted to J.K. Rowling._

**.:Chapter 2 – Chance Encounter:.**

The front door slammed shut causing Hermione to jump as the noise reverberated through the caverns of the apartment. There she was abandoned and alone. She could feel her bottom lip quivering, urging her to just let go and give into her tears. It was an offer that in the end she couldn't refuse.

Tears poured from her bloodshot eyes, spilling onto her cheeks. Their warmth, somehow, seemed to comfort her at first, but then they turned cold reminding her of Harry. The apartment was steeped in deadly silence with only the ticking of the clock intermittently breaking it. The seconds turned into minutes as the clock continued its monotonous rhythm over and over.

_Tick_. _Tock_

Hermione wiped away the tears from her eyes and face, and began to remember...

Harry and she had started dating when they were both made Head Boy and Girl.

_Tick. Tock._

It was a chill night when he had told her how he felt about her under the starlit sky.

She thought her heart would explode when she heard him say _I love you_ for the first time and then kissed her.

_Tick. Tock._

But then he changed. Voldemort changed him. The nightmares, the anger; it was more than she could bear.

She was nothing to him anymore. She was just a duty he had to fulfil. _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

She needed silence. She needed to compose her thoughts, but the teasing ticking of the bedside clock was more than she could handle. In a moment of anger, she grabbed the clock and hurled it against the wall. However, the clock didn't hit the wall; her ears instead were greeted with the shattering of glass crashing onto the wooden floor.

Hermione's eyes grew wide with disbelief as she looked at the shattered picture of Harry, Ron and herself with their N.E.W.T results except they were no longer waving or smiling. They were still, stationary... dead. Slowly, she climbed down off the bed, stooping to pick up the splintered pieces of glass. With every piece she picked up, she felt like she was picking up the broken pieces of her heart; the one which Harry had shattered. A sharp feeling of pain sliced across the top of her finger as a fragment of glass cut her. Blood began to ooze and trickle down her finger.

_Pain._

This was her reality, the only thing she knew now.

Slumping against the side of the bed, Hermione drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She buried her head into her knees and sobbed, remembering...

* * *

_The midday sun was glistening on the lake; in the far distance you could make out the giant squid flailing its tentacles in the air. A cooling breeze swept through her hair as she sat underneath the tall oak tree, revising for her next exam. A shadow cast itself over the pages of her Charms book, looking up she saw the slim, tall figure of Harry Potter._

"_How's the revision going?" he questioned playfully as he sat down beside her, placing an arm casually around her shoulder._

"_Okay, I guess," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder._

_Harry rested his head on top of hers and sighed peacefully. The day was so beautiful and he felt so lucky. He felt her fingers intertwine with his – so dainty and soft._

"_Harry?" _

"_Yeah?"_

"_I love you... so much," she whispered softly._

_Harry smiled to himself – after so much loss those words meant so much to him. He wrapped his arm tighter around her._

"_I love you too. Nothing will ever stop me from loving you, Hermione," he whispered back. "You know that, right?"_

"_I know. I just get so worried about you, especially because of You-Know-Who," she murmured._

"_Don't worry about me," he reassured her. "I'll always be here for you no matter what."_

_Hermione smiled to herself and nuzzled deeper into his shoulder. It just felt so right being there with him, surrounded by the freshness of spring. Harry lifted his head and shifted himself to face her. Hermione smiled at him and saw the happiness that danced in his lucid green eyes. He cupped her face in his hands and slowly leant forward. She could feel his soft lips against hers, closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed herself to enjoy the moment.

* * *

_

The shrill ring of the telephone brought her back from the depths of her memory. She didn't know how long it had been ringing for, all she could remember was the warmth of a kiss all those years ago. She reached for the phone that lay on the bedside table next to the redundant space where the clock had once sat. 

"H-hello," said Hermione quietly.

"Hermione? It's Imelda here from work," came the jolly voice at the other end of the telephone.

Realisation hit Hermione... she was late for work.

"Hi, Imelda," replied Hermione quickly, coughing for added effect.

"I was wondering whether you would be coming in today, but you don't sound too well."

"No, I'm not feeling to great at the moment. I'm sorry I didn't call earlier," she answered, her voice quivering.

"Hermione, is... is something wrong?" probed Imelda gently. Everyone at the Ministry knew the great deeds Harry Potter had done, but they also knew the great price he and Hermione had to pay.

"No, no, everything is fine," Hermione lied. "I'm just feeling a little under the weather, that's all."

"Well, if you're sure. Get plenty of rest and I'll see you on Monday," replied Imelda.

There was more to this situation than met the eye but it wouldn't have been fair on Hermione to question her any further.

"Ok, well, goodbye," and with that Hermione put the phone down.

She needed to get out. She needed to get away from this apartment and if needs be away from Harry for awhile. She felt like the walls were closing in on her, trapping her and condemning her to live in this emotional prison forever. Well, she wasn't going to let that happen... perhaps she could stay with her parents for awhile until she felt strong enough to go back and face Harry? No. They would probably worry... Hermione didn't want to risk upsetting them; instead she got showered and decided to go to for a walk. Maybe the walk would help her to get her thoughts in order...

It was a blustery autumn day outside; the sky was no longer blue but grey. Walking along, she saw the leaves with their orange hues danced about on the pavement, jumping in the wind. Hermione watched them and envied their freedom, their lack of responsibility. Her thoughts still lingered on the hours that had just passed. In her heart of hearts, she knew she couldn't leave Harry; there was no way he could deal with this on his own. However, she needed to think about _her_ life and _her _happiness for once... the thing that was being most neglected in this situation. She was so deep in thought when...

"Hey, would you watch where you're going?" asked a tall, blonde man exasperatedly as Hermione abruptly collided with him

"God... I'm sorry," replied Hermione, bending down to help pick up the man's paperwork. However, just as she was about to give the paperwork back to him, she stopped dead realising exactly who it belonged to.

"Draco Malfoy!" she exclaimed, her mouth falling open slightly.

He had changed so much... he had grown a lot in height and his shoulders had broadened out. Instead of the usual slick backed hairstyle he used to sport, it now lay tousled and windswept. However, right now this was all she needed. An encounter with her least favourite person...

Draco looked at Hermione, frowning with a somewhat puzzled look plastered across his face, but realisation suddenly hit him.

"Hermione Granger!" he questioned, a slight hint of amazement in his voice. "You look so..."

He looked at the floor as if searching for an answer; quickly he glanced back up at her.

"...so different."

She had changed considerably since he had last seen her. Her face had lost its childish roundness and had become much more angular. Her eyes remained the same, two orbs of stunning amber, but now they seemed to convey an inexplicably haunting sadness. She had a dishevelled look to her as if she hadn't slept properly in a long time.

"Well, you've changed a lot yourself!" she retorted.

She had still not forgotten the way he had treated her at Hogwarts. Right now, this was a conversation she did not want to be a part of at all; a confrontation with Draco Malfoy was not on the top of her list of things to do.

"So, what are you up to now?" asked Draco politely, glancing over her rudeness,

Hermione looked at him in complete disbelief since when had he ever cared what she did with her life? In fact since when had he actually cared about any other human being except his self?

"Huh. Well, your manners certainly have changed!" she replied. "I remember when you wouldn't even give me the time of day at Hogwarts! What was it you called me?" she questioned sarcastically. "Oh yes I remember, a mudblood. Now, if you don't mind."

"Still dating Potter?" questioned Draco, trying to hold back his anger. He knew that mentioning Harry's name would get a response out of her.

Hermione felt herself bristling with anger.

"How dare you? How dare you even presume to know what goes on in my life! You have no right!" she shouted.

Feeling the sting of tears, she turned away quickly and started to walk off. However, to her surprise she felt a hand on the back of her shoulder.

"WHAT?"

She glared at him, a combination of anger and exasperation flaming in her usually placid amber eyes.

"Look, you're right, I'm sorry," began Draco sincerely. "It's just, well, I'm not the same person you knew back at Hogwarts. My views on certain things..."

His eyes faltered on her for a second. How could he explain this to her without her thinking he was lying?

"Well, let's just say they've changed," he finished. He ran both hands through his tousled blonde hair. Hermione bit her lip and remembered who else did that exact same gesture. Nonetheless, she scoffed at his answer. There was no way she could believe that someone like Draco Malfoy could possibly change especially after the way he had acted all those years ago.

"And did you make this life choice _before or after_ Harry blew your precious Voldemort to bits?" retorted Hermione angrily. "Oh, believe me, I find this Malfoy reformation quite touching. No really I do," she mocked, "but just how gullible do you think I am?"

She could see Draco's steely grey eyes narrow. Before she thought she could perceive a certain softness in them, but they had now swiftly transformed into the cold and piercing glare she was so accustomed to.

"I don't have to explain myself to anyone," whispered Malfoy dangerously, "least of all to you, Granger."

Snatching his paperwork off her he turned around and began to walk away. Hermione glared after him remembering all the spiteful things he had said to her at Hogwarts, yet she felt a niggling sensation in the pit of her stomach. Was it guilt? She didn't know, in some respects she was no better than him. Her comments just then had been harsh; they were adults now, so surely they could discuss their problems like adults.

"Yeah, well, I see that Malfoy charm hasn't completely disappeared," she called out after him sardonically.

To Hermione's great surprise Draco stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly to face her. He began to walk towards her, almost predatorily, the smallest grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Tell me the truth now Granger," he teased, growing ever closer to her stationary position. "I bet you missed it."

Hermione's mouth dropped wide open, unable to respond. She was completely flabbergasted and found herself looking around as if searching for a witty comeback.

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy," she managed sternly.

"Hey, look, can we bury the hatchet for just a minute?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Fine," replied Hermione obstinately.

"Listen, how about we meet for dinner this evening about 7 o' clock?" proposed Draco earnestly.

"Dinner! Am I hearing you right?" exclaimed Hermione. "Three years ago you wouldn't be seen dead talking to me, now you're asking me to dinner!"

"Look, I said I've changed," he began. "What can I do to make you believe me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"I don't know," she sighed, tired of the cyclical nature of this conversation. "I just... don't know."

"Here's my card." He handed her an egg-white business card with his name and work address embossed in black ink. "If you want to meet for dinner just write 'yes' on the back of the card, but if you don't want to meet... well, I understand."

Something stirred deep in Hermione's subconscious. She was being given a choice – an opportunity to do something for _herself_. Over and over in her head she kept telling herself that this was the same Draco Malfoy who made her first years at Hogwarts hell. However, she felt compelled to go, to hurt Harry maybe? To get back at him for treating her like he did? She studied the card.

Draco watched her as she stood in silence, a frown creasing her brow as she pondered on his proposition. He had changed, that was no lie, but his interest in Hermione lay deeper than she knew.

"You don't have to make a decision now. Go home and -"

"Where shall we meet?" Hermione interrupted with a defiant gleam in her eyes.

* * *

_A/N: Chapter 2 done! A bit of a cliffie, but not really. Roll on Chapter 3! Hope Draco and Hermione are fairly IC, it's my first outing with those two characters. Anyway, please feel free to give me a review. _


	3. The Truth

_Hey guys. Hope you're enjoying the story so far, it's about to get a wee bit interesting. I think the chapter kinda lacks so I'm sorry but hope you enjoy anyway. _ _Characters copyrighted to J.K. Rowling. Original story by sakurazukamori and fuma121._

**.:Chapter 3 – The Truth:.**

She stood in front of the full length mirror that was inlaid into the mahogany wardrobe. Her stomach was full of butterflies making her feel more nervous than she had ever been before. She reprimanded herself for being foolish... this was _Draco Malfoy_ she was meeting. The mere mention of the name meant that her evening would end in probable disaster. Sighing, she closed the wardrobe door and walked over towards the dressing table. It was nearly 7 o'clock and still no sign of Harry. She had a cover story all set in case he wondered where she was going, even though she knew he would not even be at home this weekend. She thought he was on a work trip or more than likely visiting the Weasley's for the weekend. Ron's death had obviously hit them all hard and even with Percy returning to the Weasley roost, nothing could make up for their loss. Mrs. Weasley had taken Harry on as a surrogate son so it was only right for him to visit and support her.

"Harry," she whispered, looking at the picture of the two of them together.

She sat down in front of the mirror of her dressing table looking at her reflection. She had sleeked her hair and swept it back from her face, clipping it up with a butterfly grip. Stray, wispy tendrils of golden-brown broke free from the clip's hold, framing her face. It was only then that she noticed how tired and washed out she looked; the years of sleepless nights had really taken its toll on her appearance. Reluctantly, she opened up one of the draws and looked at the makeup inside. It had been awhile since she had worn it, she didn't even know if now was the right time to start wearing it. However, she wouldn't give Draco the chance to insult her about how tired she looked. Carefully, she began to apply foundation, paying special attention to the dark, puffy circles that framed her joyless eyes. She brushed her cheekbones with the slightest amount of rouge and applied a dusky pink lipstick to her lips.

It was surprising just how much difference a small amount of makeup could make. Standing up she smoothed out the creases in her dress and walk over to the mirror one last time. She studied her appearance; she was wearing a smart black dress, neither too short nor too long with thin straps that were laced with obsidian. The dress was neither too baggy nor too loose, but was tailored so it hugged her curves in the right places. Around her neck she wore an onyx choker that contrasted beautifully with her pale skin. She decided on a pair of black high heels to finish off the outfit, complete with a dark burgundy stole that she wrapped about her shoulders.

A loud cracking noise distracted her attention from the mirror – it must have been Draco apparating. Sure enough, the doorbell started to ring.

_Ok, Hermione, this is it, dinner with Draco Malfoy. You can do it._

Picking up her clutch bag she headed towards the front door, taking deep calming breaths along the way.

Draco casually ran a hand through his blonde hair as he saw a silhouette approach the front door. He was amazed when this silhouette opened the door and transformed into an almost unrecognisable Hermione Granger. She looked both stunning and elegant. Her usual unruly tangle of curls was deftly swept up showing off the delicate bone structure of her face. For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy was truly lost for words.

"You, uh... you look good," he said, ashamed at his inability to give her a better compliment. She'd probably think he was lying anyway, but that wasn't the point.

"Uh, thanks," she replied, trying not to stare at the impeccably turned out man in front of her.

She had to admit it, he did look good... in fact, he looked better than good. His hair, although lacking a definite style, remained dishevelled like earlier yet inexplicably stylish at the same time. He was wearing a well-tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath worn without a tie. For a moment, she allowed her eyes to catch a glimpse of his face. The moonlight caught his piercing cheekbones and exposed the slightest hint of stubble framing his jawline. She felt blood rushing to her cheeks, but somehow managed to maintain a somewhat calm composure – there was no way she was going to inflate his ego anymore.

"Shall we go then?" he asked, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"Sure," she replied, forcing a strained smile back.

With two ear splitting cracks, they apparated into the night.

Within seconds they had arrived on the Via Opulentae, an upmarket Diagon Alley near the West End of London. Hermione had never seen wizarding shops and restaurants such as these before. In a way, they reminded her of the muggle shops her mum used to take her to in Oxford Circus and Covent Garden when she was younger. However, these shops were beyond anything in the muggle world. The street they walked on seemed to shimmer with star dust and real faeries were caught in the street lamps, waving at the people who passed. Draco looked at the wonder that had filled Hermione's face and gave a slight chuckle.

"I take it you've never been here before?" he questioned.

"Never," she replied, her eyes fixated on the pixies that were sprinkling pixie dust on the ground in front of them.

"My mother used to take me here all the time," said Draco, a slight hint of pride in his voice as he talked about his mother, Narcissa Malfoy. "Well, that was before...," but he trailed off.

"Before what?" probed Hermione unexpectedly noticing the downcast look in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter," he replied quickly mentally smacking his head as he realised how weak and soppy he must've seemed. This was Hermione Granger; he couldn't let his guard down around her. In an attempt to distract her attention, Draco held out his hand and watched as a pixie hovered above it, sprinkling dust into it. He turned to face Hermione.

"Hold out your hand,"

"Okay," she replied, unsure of why he was asking her to do it. He poured the pixie dust from his hand on to hers. Her eyes widened as she felt the warmth emanating from it. It was comforting and reassuring; she turned and gave Draco a slight smile. Perhaps the evening wasn't going to be as bad as she originally anticipated...

* * *

The walk along the Via Opulentae was interspersed with short bursts of conversation. However, Hermione was more interested at how beautiful everything was. 

"We're here," he said, as they stopped outside a rather sophisticated looking restaurant.

"Ardesco?" she mumbled. She had vaguely remembered reading about it in the 'Witch? Restaurant' guide, apparently it was one of the best restaurants in London, owned by the Creevey Brothers.

The interior of the restaurant was as spellbinding as the exterior. For a wizarding restaurant, it was surprisingly modern – the muggle-born Creevey Brothers obviously didn't care too much for wizard drapery. However, the ceiling did remind her somewhat of Hogwarts, enchanted to look like the night's sky complete with all the different constellations. The Maitre d' showed them to their table situated in a niche away from most of the other diners looking on to the street outside. Hermione removed her stole and draped it across the back of her chair.

"Oh, by the way, the food here isn't cooked by house elves," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "Thought you'd like to know."

"Well... that was very considerate of you," she replied sarcastically. In all honesty, it was considerate of him to remember that she had a problem with house elves, but she didn't want to seem too grateful... not yet.

The food in the restaurant was delicious, completely deserving of its five star rating. Hermione leant back, full from her main course and took a sip from her glass of wine.

"I can't believe I'm here with _you_," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Oh, come on... its not _that_ bad, is it?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

Hermione took another sip from her wineglass; a slight smile crossed her lips as she pondered his question. To be honest, the evening had gone smoothly although the conversation never went beyond the conformities of restaurant talk.

"No, I guess not," she replied, folding her napkin.

Draco watched the way her delicate hands folded the napkin, once, twice...

"Listen, I'm sorry about earlier and, well, I guess I'm sorry about everything really," he said sincerely.

Hermione stopped folding the napkin and looked up at him, a coy smile forming on her rosebud lips. She could tell he was not used to apologising for himself and she wasn't going to let him get away with it so easily.

"A Malfoy apologising? A rare sight indeed!" she laughed, running her finger around the rim of her wineglass. The wine had managed to loosen her up and gave her a renewed confidence she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Hey, cut it out," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Hermione smiled and for the first time that evening brought her amber eyes up to look into his grey ones. The way she looked at him unnerved Draco – it felt like she was peering into his very soul.

"What?" he asked, growing uncomfortable with her prolonged stare.

"Nothing," she replied. "I'm just trying to work out why."

"Why, what?" he questioned further, discernment highlighting his words.

"Why you've all of a sudden changed into what appears to be a rather decent person," she concluded.

"Is it so wrong for people to want to change?" he replied, shooting her a hurt look. "I just want to make the most of my life... the way I was before..." His voiced trailed off as he remembered how he had acted and who he had acted on behalf of.

Hermione sensed his reluctance to talk about his past; perhaps it hurt him as much as it had hurt her? Something inside compelled her to reach out and show him that it was okay... that it was okay to change. She was startled by her own forwardness as she placed her hand on his.

"Its okay," she reassured. "People are allowed to change... even people like you."

Draco was surprised to feel the warmth of Hermione's hand on top of his and smiled at the hint of sarcasm he detected in her voice.

"What about you?" he began. "You've changed."

"I've had to change," she whispered, barely audible but Draco managed to hear it.

"Potter?" he probed, being as gentle as he could permit himself to be about his least favourite subject.

Hermione looked away, hurt plastered all over her face. They had managed to go the whole evening without having to bring _that_ subject up and now she felt wretched that she was here with Draco instead of being back home with Harry.

"Look... I, um, I really should go," began Hermione. "I've got a tonne of paperwork to do and-"

"Stop," he interrupted, putting his hand on her arm.

Hermione looked at him, unsure of what this unfamiliar touch meant.

"Don't you ever want to do something for yourself? Make _yourself _happy," he questioned, gently letting go of her arm, "instead of someone else?"

She could feel tears stinging her eyes, but she would not let him see her cry. No one would see her cry, not anymore.

"Of course I do," she replied, a slight quiver fell into her voice. "I just don't know how."

Draco watched as Hermione began to wrap her silken stole about her bare shoulders as she prepared to leave.

"I can't let you apparate in this state," said Draco. "We'll take a cab back to yours."

"Thanks," she replied, grateful that he wasn't going to let her try and apparate when not only was she upset, but slightly tipsy too.

The night air was refreshing as they left Ardesco; Hermione's light-headedness began to subside as she took in deep breaths of the cool air. Draco removed his wand and drew a large 'T' out in front of them both... with an almighty CRACK a London Hackney cab was waiting to take them to where ever they wanted to go.

"Alright mate, where ya headin'?" said the cabby in a broad cockney accent.

"To Prewett Square please," replied Hermione.

"Right you are love," smiled the cabby, giving her a wink through the glass divider.

* * *

The moment Hermione stepped out of the taxi, she vowed it would be the last time she would ever take one again. The experience was something like the Knight Bus, but far jerkier and a lot less comfortable. Draco paid the taxi driver and with another CRACK the taxi disappeared into the night leaving Hermione and Draco standing outside her apartment. 

"Thanks for dinner," she began. "I had a really nice-"

However, before she could finish Draco put a finger to her lips instantly silencing her.

"Ssshh," he whispered.

Slowly, he removed his finger and gently placed his hand on the small of her back. Hermione felt her stomach tie itself up in knots; he was so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. She brought her eyes up to meet his and held his gaze. Something like gravity was pulling them closer towards each other... she felt a warm hand stoke the side of her face as their lips brushed together. The kiss was soft, gentle, but underneath it all was the desire for something more...

* * *

_Ooo, naughty Hermione! But come on, who could resist those Malfoy charms? Hope you liked the chapter, sorry nothing majorly exciting happens – that's saved for Chapter 4, so keep on reading!_


	4. Confrontations

_Okay, to make up for the lack of action and drama in the last chapter, this one will be like a tribute to soap operas, but with less limey stuff... I hope o.O Intrigued? Keep on reading and review me! Characters are, as always, copyrighted to J.K. Rowling. _

**.:Chapter 4 – Confrontations:.**

She could feel the cooling breeze of morning caressing her naked skin as she lay, partially veiled by silken bed sheets. Her amber eyes remained shielded behind their lucent eyelids, but she was no longer asleep. A blush of red clung to her pale cheeks giving her the appearance of renewed youthfulness and her once sleek hair was now splayed out, carefree across the crispness of the white pillow. A contented smile was emblazoned across her rose-flushed lips as she remembered the night just passed. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was wrong, but it had just felt so _right_. Her smile deepened as she recounted all the minute details of their night together; the way he had held her so close, the way his kisses made her gasp with pleasure, the beads of sweat that trickled down his muscular shoulders and abdomen mingling with her own. Sighing, she turned over, reaching out for his sleeping body... but her hand was met with cool emptiness. Her eyes flashed open silently confirming his absence.

"What did you expect, Granger," she muttered to herself angrily.

She felt her teeth bite into her bottom lip as the overwhelming feeling of regret crashed over her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, making her skin feel prickly all over. She felt physically sick ... until she caught a glimpse of a blaze of red sitting on her dressing table. Her eyes adjusted and focused on the image until the blaze of red transformed into that of a bouquet of a dozen roses. Hermione felt her mouth fall open as she stared in disbelief at their beauty; she could only guess who had left them. Smiling, she wrapped herself in the warmth of the sheets they had shared together and shuffled her way towards her dresser.

Hermione leant over and smelt the intoxicating aroma of the red blooms allowing it to coil around her senses. Her smile widened as she saw the card that had been propped up next to the vase. The message was simple, but still managed to convey so much:

_Hermione,_

_Thanks for the coffee._

_D. _

The message, the flowers, the bed sheets she clung to so closely all brought forth more memories from the night they had spent together. She perched herself on the edge of the bed and hugged herself tightly, wishing it was him holding her instead of herself. Sighing, she lay back on to the bed thinking, reminiscing about the night that had just passed.

* * *

_She felt Draco's hand begin to caress the small of her back, bringing her closer towards him as their kiss deepened. A kiss that was witnessed only by the pale moon in the midnight sky; even Time itself seemed to stop its monotony to allow for their moment of passion. Hermione felt her arms subconsciously move from her sides and wrap themselves around his neck. She could feel Draco's hand moving from her face, softly brushing over shoulder, down her side and gently settling on the curvature of her waist. She could feel herself pressing against him, further intensifying their kiss. Draco could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest against his own, silently telling him things she would never dare say out loud. Gradually, under his initiation, their kiss came to a tender end._

"_You'll catch a cold out here," he whispered softly in her ear, running his hands up and down her bare arms._

"_I guess this is where I ask you to come in for coffee," she replied softly, resting her head against his chest._

_Draco emitted a soft chuckle at her reference to the traditional muggle sentiment._

"_I guess so," he murmured back; placing a curved finger under her chin, he lifted her face up towards his and placed a light kiss on her flushed lips._

_Hermione removed the keys from her bag and quietly unlocked the door. Taking his hand in her own, she led him into the hall way, the door automatically closing and locking behind them. Gracefully, she allowed her stole to fall away from her shoulders and cascade on to the floor. Smiling, Draco placed his hands on her bare shoulders running his thumbs along the prominence of her collarbone and then slowly leant in placing gentle kisses along her exposed neckline. Hermione felt her eyes close and her breathing grow more ragged as she felt the line of his kisses tracing up her neck towards her ear. The heat of his breath against her naked skin filled her with an unspoken desire. She felt her hands parting his suit jacket and began deftly unbuttoning his shirt. Draco was surprised at her forwardness, but made sure his surprise did not show instead he kissed her fervently on the lips with an unbidden longing. Hermione felt her fingers brushing against his lower abdomen as his shirt fell open; her hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they ravenously explored what lay underneath._

"_Are sure about this?" questioned Draco gently, breaking away from their embrace. He found his hands sliding down past her hips, resting on her upper thigh. She could feel the tips of his fingers exploring the skin underneath the hem of her dress sending tingles up her spine._

"_More than anything," she whispered breathily as she grabbed his shirt, pulling him back into a renewed embrace.

* * *

_

The warm water that splashed on her face refreshed her as she stood motionless underneath the shower head, washing away the remains of sleep. She felt as if she were a completely different person today than she was yesterday, or any other day before the events that had unfolded the previous night. Sighing, she washed out the globular conditioner that clung to her hair and turned off the shower. Stepping out into the bathroom, she felt her skin erupt in goose-pimples as the cold hit her. Shivering, she grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it about herself and made for the bedroom once again.

* * *

Hermione was not the only one who couldn't get their mind off the night that had just passed. Draco was amazed that she had actually gone through with the whole thing; he was so sure that she would lose her nerve at the last minute... how wrong he was. He felt bad leaving her to wake up alone in the morning, but making excuses to leave her was probably even worse and he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt the strong autumn wind tearing at his suit jacket, trying to expose him as he made his way back to his apartment his head awash with the events that had just ensued. Somewhere deep down inside him, the urge to see her once again rose within him. He mentally scolded himself for developing even the slightest attachment to Hermione – it was not his original intention, but there was something about her that, well, captivated him. He couldn't put his finger on it exactly...

"Damn you, Malfoy," he muttered to himself as he turned on his heel and began walking back towards Prewett Square. Apparating at this time in the morning probably wasn't such a good idea.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind about the night before. He still hadn't worked out whether or not there was actually something going on between her and Potter. Surely, if there was then she wouldn't have let the events of the night before happen... Hermione just wasn't like that. However, he knew that Potter still had something to do with her; the mere mention of his name had almost driven her away from him in Ardesco. Stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, he picked up his pace, hoping to catch her before she went out.

* * *

Hermione re-read the message Draco had left with the roses again and again; each time she read it, her stomach did somersaults. However, her happiness did not come for free; she still felt the pangs of guilt sting her when she thought about Harry. If he ever found this message, he would know what had happened. Hermione crushed the message in her hands and looked frantically around the room. _If only it was like the Marauder's Map!_ _Blank to unknowing eyes!_ Hastily, she put it in the bottom of her makeup bag in her dresser draw; she knew Harry would have no need to look there. It made her sad knowing that she was keeping all these secrets from Harry, but she resolved that today she would tell him that she just couldn't continue with their relationship. No matter how much effort she put in, she didn't get anything back. Harry was an empty shell and no matter how much she had cared for him, _had_ loved him, it just couldn't be.

A loud CRACK shook her from her thoughts; she closed her dresser draw and made her way into the hallway. She heard the unbolting of the lock on the front door and felt the draft bite at her ankles as Harry came into the apartment. His hair was more mussed up then usual and he pulled his robes tightly about him even though he was no longer outside in an act that seemingly shut out any and everything. Hermione felt uncomfortable as she watched him drop his suitcase and walk towards the kitchen.

"How's Molly?" asked Hermione politely, knowing that if she didn't break the silence no one would.

"Fine," he replied absentmindedly as he finally loosened his grip on his travelling robes.

"And Arthur?" she asked again.

"Fine, everyone's fine," he snapped, discarding his robes over the banister.

Hermione felt herself crumple inside all over again; no matter how much she tried she had just lost the strength to deal with this situation.

"Harry?" whispered Hermione softly, her hands fidgeting uncontrollably.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I..."

His right eyebrow arched drawing attention to the now-fading scar that lay emblazoned above it. He watched as she searched for the words to tell him it was over.

"I don't think –,"

However, she was cut off before she could finish by the intermittent buzzing of the front door bell.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Harry enquired as he made his way to the door.

"No," she replied, shaking, fighting back tears of helplessness that threatened to break through her resolve.

* * *

Draco stood in front of 129 Prewett Square watching as a dark silhouette came walking towards the front door. Casually, he ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to neaten it up or at least make it look presentable. However, something was different about this silhouette from the one he saw last night; it was broader, taller and soon enough Draco's suspicions were confirmed.

"Harry Potter," smirked Draco, a sarcastic smile emblazoned across his face. "I should have known."

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" scowled Harry, his green eyes narrowing at the sight of the blonde haired man.

"I don't think that's really any of your concern," replied Draco, his smile dropping.

"Well I make it my _concern_ to know why you are standing outside my house," retorted Harry, his fist clenched by his side.

"Still the same, aren't you Potter? Just can't keep your nose out of other people's business," snarled Draco, his arms crossed defensively against his chest.

"What possible business could you have here?" spat Harry, his face draining of any colour. "Neither me nor Hermione would ever have anything to do with you, so do yourself a favour and leave."

"Hmm," mused Draco, knowing that if he played his trump card he'd have Harry just where he wanted him. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Harry's eyes narrowed further as he watched a sly smile tug at the corners of Draco Malfoy's mouth.

"Let me cut to the chase, Potter, is Miss Granger there?" he sighed sarcastically.

"What if she is?" replied Harry behind clenched teeth.

"Well, if you aren't going to be helpful, could you just tell her that I can't stop thinking about last night," whispered Draco softly yet loud enough so Harry could hear, "about _everything_ last night."

Within a split second both men had their wands drawn and pointed at each others throats, the tip of each of their wand's burnishing with a fiery glow. Harry felt a rage rise inside him that he hadn't felt since _that_ day.

"You lie," growled Harry, the point of his wand digging further into Draco's pale neck.

"What's the matter, Potter?" drawled Draco, seemingly unphased that he had a wand pointed at his throat. "Angry that I got there first?"

Harry's knuckles cracked as his grip on the wand tightened; the smug look of Draco Malfoy was more than he could stand.

"I bet it tears you up inside, doesn't it?" continued Draco, taking advantage of his opponents silence. "Knowing that it was me she longed for and not you."

"I swear," muttered Harry, his voice shaking with anger, "...I'll kill you where you stand."

"Now why don't I believe you?" whispered Draco, his wand tracing the contours of Harry's naked neckline, resting it underneath Harry's chin. "Kill me and you won't find out the answers I know you're just _dying _to hear."

"I don't care about anything you have to say," retorted Harry, lying through his teeth. "I'd rather see you dead than hear another word come out of your mouth, Malfoy."

"Shame," replied Draco acerbically. "But seriously, you have no idea what you were missing out on with Granger. She's hot stuff. Believe me, I know."

Before Draco could even smirk at his own comment, Harry suddenly lunged at him pushing him against the wall of porch, grabbing his jacket lapels his eyes burning.

"Don't push me Malfoy," whispered Harry dangerously, "or I swear in the name of all things holy, I'll kill you... and that's a promise."

* * *

Hermione lingered in the hall way grasping brief utterances of Harry's conversation with, who could only be, Draco Malfoy. She could hear his sardonic tones and see the bobbing of his blonde head through the bobbled glass of the front door. Her stomach lurched as she heard her name mentioned; she could not believe that Draco would go so far as to tell Harry what had happened between them the night before. Surely he wouldn't? He just... couldn't. Tears of frustration poured down her cheeks as she felt herself subconsciously wrap her arms around her fragile frame. She felt wretched inside, used and at Guilt's mercy.

"Oh, God," she whispered to the air, her voice broken with sobs. "No."

The next thing she heard was a loud slamming noise as a body hit the side of the porch wall; she was startled to her senses and crept closer towards the front door. Her breath rose and fell sharply as she reached out to open the door. To her horror, Harry had Draco pinned up against the porch wall, his wand ready in his hand.

"...and that's a promise,"

"Harry?" screamed Hermione. "What in God's name are you doing?"

Her desperate tones caused him to turn around and face her, his eyes no longer vacant but burning with anger so intense that she was silenced by it.

"Morning, Hermione," smiled Draco, brushing down his suit jacket that had accumulate dust from the brickwork. "Harry and I had some important business we had to tie up, didn't we Potter?"

Harry did not even grace Draco with an answer as his eyes and attention lay fixed on Hermione, his piercing emerald eyes meeting her watery amber ones with an unflinching stare. His right hand twitched uncontrollably at his side and eventually her silence pushed him off the edge...

The next thing Hermione felt was a stinging backslap across the right side of her face and the sound of flesh striking flesh. She felt her cheek burning as she clutched it in her hand. Her eyes were wide with fear and her whole body had begun to shake uncontrollably.

"H-harry?" she stammered. "I...I-,"

"Don't," he whispered, his voice shaking with both rage and hurt. "How... how could you do this?"

Hermione felt her eyes lower to the floor in shame, her silent tears spoke for her, but this wasn't good enough for Harry. Grabbing her shoulders, he searched her face for some semblance of an answer.

"How could you!" he shouted, shaking her forcefully. Hermione felt the painful grip of his fingers digging into her skin as her tears ran anew.

"Let her go," commanded a voice from behind Harry. "Or you'll wish you'd killed me when you had the chance."

Harry felt the familiar feeling of a wand being pointed at the nape of his neck and the sensation of burning spreading across his skin. His arms dropped from Hermione's shoulders and lay like rods of steel at his side. Draco outstretched his hand beckoning for Hermione to come over to him, but she remained riveted to the spot, shaking and sobbingly quietly. He could almost see the hurt mournfully enveloping her eyes as she met his steely grey gaze, her bottom lip trembling.

"Hermione, please," implored Draco, the slightest hint of desperation lingering in his voice.

"I... I can't," choked out Hermione. "I just can't."

"What's stopping you Hermione?" challenged Harry unexpectedly. "Surely this is nothing compared to last night!"

"S-stop," cried Hermione. "Just stop!"

"Why should I?" snarled Harry. "Ashamed are we?"

"Drop it, Potter," warned Draco, his wand digging in harder to the back of Harry's neck.

"No," replied Harry curtly. "I need to hear what happened from her."

"Harry, please," begged Hermione. "Don't do this."

"What?" replied Harry emotionlessly. "Reveal yourself for what you are? A Death Eater's slut?"

"I'm no Death Eater, Potter," snarled Draco, his anger causing more sparks to shoot from the end of his wand.

"Like father, like son Malfoy," retorted Harry. "Like father, like son."

* * *

_Cliff-hanger or what? Guess not... ooo it was so fun writing that. Hope y'all enjoyed it too! Harry's got a bit of a mouth on him don't he? Anyway, reviews and constructive criticism welcome._


	5. Love and War

_A/N: Wow, this has been a long time in coming huh? I've had to give this fic an AU tag because some of the events don't really follow on from HBP, especially in regards to Draco's story. I hope this doesn't deter any of you from reading this fic... Well, without further ado, here is Chapter 5 of 'Blood Feuds.' _Characters copyrighted to J.K. Rowling

**.:Chapter 5 – Love and War:.**

"Will both of you stop!" implored Hermione, her voice more high pitched than usual. She could see the neighbour's blinds twitching, their faces only partially hidden by the grubby nets. "Please?"

"Bit late now isn't it Hermione?" spat Harry, his eyes flicking momentarily to her.

"Just leave her out of this, Potter," warned Draco, dropping his wand from Harry's neck. "Don't you think you've caused her enough grief already?"

"So that's what happened?" questioned Harry, his eyes now fixed on Hermione's shaking form. "Couldn't handle being with me so you fucked him! You've got a great way of dealing with things."

"No, Harry," began Hermione. "It wasn't like that."

"Funny, it looks exactly like that to me," snarled Harry, his knuckles further tightening around the handle of his wand. "I trusted you Hermione and you just threw that trust away. Anything else I should know? Who else did you go with behind my back?"

Hermione felt her teeth bite down on her lip as she broke away from his gaze. What he said was true; she had betrayed his trust, she had thrown away everything they had built up for Draco Malfoy.

"Don't listen to him Hermione," said Draco. Although part of him couldn't deny that he wasn't relishing this scenario, Potter and Granger at each others throats, a look of almost sincerity was apparent on his face.

"Harry, I... I was going to tell you," she stammered. "I was going to tell you how I couldn't keep this up, _us _up, but I didn't-,"

"You didn't want to hurt me? Betray me? Tear me apart? Take your pick Hermione," interrupted Harry, his eyes almost betraying the immense hurt he felt inside. "After everything we've been through. So much for _no matter what_, does that even mean anything to you?"

"I'm sor-,"

"SORRY!" roared Harry unable to keep his emotions under control. "You're sorry! No, Hermione, you aren't sorry, I'm the one who's sorry, sorry that I spent the past three years with you."

"You don't mean that," sobbed Hermione softly. "I know you don't mean it."

"I do," replied Harry. "I've never been more certain of anything."

"Harry, please," she began again.

"Leave Hermione," warned Harry, his voice becoming dangerously quiet. "Leave before I do something I might reject."

"As if hitting her wasn't enough," snarled Draco, his mind full of images of his father and his mother, the way his mother was always quiet even when he could hear his father punishing her.

"Harry, I can't," whispered Hermione, ignoring Draco's response.

"LEAVE!"

Hermione looked at him imploringly one last time before turning away from both him and Draco, fresh tears streaming down her face. Her cheek still throbbed from where Harry had struck her; she tentatively brought her hand to her face feeling the heat the red mark emanated. Harry had never raised his hand at her; he had always been too emotionless...

She needed to go home, to see a friendly face, to find people who weren't going to use her. How could she have been so stupid to have trusted someone like Draco Malfoy? Part of her knew that whatever she had 'shared' with Draco wasn't going to last, but for it to end up like this? For her to hurt Harry in ways she couldn't even comprehend herself? She could feel the guilt consuming her heart, filling the empty hole where her love for Harry once was.

* * *

Both Harry and Draco watched as Hermione walked off, her pace brisk as if she couldn't get away fast enough; Draco was half-expecting her to break out into a sprint. He didn't know why, but her tears had made his stomach clench in what could only be described as a feeling of guilt. He hadn't felt this way before, not for a long time... guilt was something a Malfoy just wasn't capable of, but then he had changed so much; the name Malfoy seemed to be more of a curse than a blessing now. Rather than wizards being prejudiced against muggleborns, it was now purebloods that felt the brunt of the wizarding community's wrath, especially purebloods with well known Death Eater connections. His father, his aunt, his uncle... no one could get rid of a family legacy that tainted. 

Draco watched as Harry turned back around to face him, his green eyes burning with a white hot anger he had never seen from Potter before. His face was as pale as Death, his eyes were bloodshot and his wand was now pressed against Draco's heart. Draco's own wand lay by his side, although he was half-tempted to mirror Potter's action especially after the words that followed.

"You should be locked up with that murderer father of yours," spoke Harry, his voice hoarse and low, "that, or dead."

"Well here's your chance Potter," retorted Draco, a mocking edge in his voice, his arms spread in a welcoming gesture. "I know you've been _dying_ for this, so what are you waiting for?"

"Unlike you and your dad, I'm not a murderer," replied Harry. "Sooner or later, the Ministry will see through you, see through the bribes. They'll expose you."

"Huh," scoffed Draco, ignoring the accusation Harry had just thrown at him. "You just haven't got the bottle to do it. No wonder she left you."

Before Draco had time to rejoice in his emotional crushing of Potter, Harry's fist collided painfully with the side of his face. Instead of gasping in pain, a satisfied grin crossed the Malfoy's lips as he felt the inside of his mouth; sure enough, his fingers came back bloodied.

"Quite a temper you've got there Potter," smirked Draco. "I better watch out."

"Go chase after your whore," whispered Harry, his wand dropping ever so slightly from Draco's chest. "Stay here a second longer and you'll regret it."

"You think she's even worth chasing after?" mused Draco, walking backwards down the steps, his eyes never leaving Harry's pale face. "You think I did what I did for my own satisfaction? No; the reason I did it was to see the look on your face when I told you that I fucked her and that she loved every second of it. So long, Potter."

Draco flashed Harry one last triumphant smile before turning to walk off down the road. Adrenaline coursed through him with every step that he took. A dull pain throbbed just below his cheekbone where Harry's fist had connected with his face; that was going to leave a bruise by the evening. Bringing a hand to his pale face, Draco rubbed at the swelling absentmindedly, the metallic tinge of blood still washing around his mouth. His thoughts went to Hermione... he wondered where she had gone, whether she was okay; he knew that was a stupid question to ask, of course she wasn't okay. Allowing a sigh to escape from his lips, Draco picked up his pace in the vain hope of catching up with her, of explaining everything to her... before it was too late.

* * *

It was hardly the most cheerful of places, but something about this graveyard made Hermione feel at ease. The gnarled trunks and half-exposed roots of yew trees struggled up through the ground, trying desperately to get closer to the sun. The white marble gravestones lay in perfect lines across the green, their perfection occasionally broken by the occasional statue for the wealthier of the dead that lay here. It was so quiet, a welcome respite from the calamity that was raging inside her. Perching on the edge of one of the benches, Hermione clasped her head in her hands, hoping to contain her emotions, sobs wracking through her as she gulped for air. Why did it have to turn out like this? Why did she let her guard down? _Fat lot of good those brains did you, Granger. _She wished things were simple again, like they had been all those summers ago, before Ron's death, before the Final Battle... her memories carried her away...

* * *

"_Come on Hermione," teased Harry, hovering above the ground on his Firebolt. "I promise you'll be safe."_

_Hermione stood there, her arms folded across her chest, a look of uncertainty emblazoned across her delicate features. She had never felt comfortable on a broomstick before, something about a mode of transport that didn't have seat belts worried her._

"_I'm quite happy here on the ground, Harry," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "but you go ahead."_

"_It won't be the same without you," smiled Harry, his green eyes laughing behind his glasses._

"_Uh huh, sure," replied Hermione, her lips trying in vain to suppress a smile._

"_Why do you have to be such a spoilsport?" he asked, his arms now folded across his chest imitating her. "You don't have to be a prefect over the summer too."_

"_Harry, you know how much I hate heights," replied Hermione, her arms dropping to her sides._

"_Seriously, I'll look after you," said Harry, offering her his hand. "No crazy stunts, no Wronski feints, just plain, regular flying, I promise."_

_Hermione considered him for a moment before gingerly placing her hand in his own. Swinging a leg over the broomstick handle, she wrapped her arms tightly around Harry's waist, her eyes jamming shut the moment she sat down. Harry turned his head round to peer over his shoulder at her; Hermione's face was buried into his back, her nose crinkled in anticipation of what was to come. He couldn't help but let a contented smile sweep across his lips as he looked at her huddled against him._

"_You alright?"_

"_I'm fine," replied Hermione, her eyes still jammed shut. "Can you just hurry up and get it over with?"_

_Kicking off from the ground, Harry felt Hermione's arms squeeze tighter around his middle, pulling herself closer towards him. The Burrow soon looked like a mere speck in an ocean of green and brown as he climbed higher and higher. It felt good to be this free, away from the constraints of being the 'Chosen One', just him and Hermione._

"_I love you Hermione," shouted Harry over the wind turbulence._

"_I love you too," came the shrill reply. "Are we almost done?"_

"_Almost," replied Harry, a wide grin across his face._

_Harry stopped the broom and hovered in mid-air looking out over the countryside. He could feel Hermione's grip loosen slightly around his waist as she too looked out over the English countryside; it truly was breathtaking._

"_I never thought I'd say it," shouted Hermione, "but it's beautiful up here!"_

"_I told you so," replied Harry laughing. "So, are you a convert?"_

"_I wouldn't go that far," smiled Hermione, "not yet anyway."_

"_Give me time," replied Harry, a satisfied smile spreading across his face._

"_Well it's a good thing we've got all the time in the world then," mused Hermione, drawing herself closer towards him, not out of fear, but out of love._

_Harry felt his smile diminish slightly as he thought on Hermione's words; did they really have all the time in the world? Was he even going to live past his eighteenth birthday? Were any of them? Life was so uncertain especially for him. Harry vainly tried to force the thought of a final battle with Voldemort from his mind, the battle that had haunted his dreams for the past seven years, but to no avail._

_Their descent to the Burrow was in silence and it was only when they touched down that words passed between them._

"_Harry? What's wrong? You were really quiet up there."_

"_I... God, I feel so helpless," he began, running a gloved hand through his hair. "What you said up there, it just... it just made me feel completely helpless."_

"_I'm sorry, I didn-,"_

"_No," he interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder, "it's not you, it's me. It's just... well, I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."_

"_Nothing is going to happen to me," she smiled, cupping his face with her hand, "or Ron, or anyone."_

"_You don't know that," replied Harry, shaking his head. "Voldemort could strike tomorrow and-"_

"_Sshhh, listen to me," whispered Hermione, her brown eyes gazing deeply into his. "I don't know what will happen tomorrow, none of us do, all I know is that I love you and I trust you. You can beat him alright? Whether that's tomorrow or a year from now, I know you can."_

_Harry felt tears of both gratitude and love spring to his eyes as Hermione's words washed over him. Pulling her into a tight embrace, he rested his head on top of hers feeling her arms wrap around him._

"_God, I love you so much," murmured Harry, his lips brushing against her hair. "I don't know what I'd do without you."_

"_You won't have to do without me," replied Hermione. "We'll always be together."_

"_No matter what?" asked Harry, a hint of longing in his voice._

"_No matter what," promised Hermione, her eyes closing in solemn recognition of her vow.

* * *

_

As Hermione opened her eyes, new tears of remorse and longing fell down her pale cheeks. She had broken the vow she made all those years ago and for what? One night's passion with Draco Malfoy... She knew she couldn't blame herself forever, she knew that if Harry hadn't have driven her away she wouldn't have ended up in Malfoy's grasp. It was too late now though, what was done was done. 

"Hermione?"

She lifted her head up, her eyes searching out the owner of the voice that had just called her name. She didn't have to look far until her eyes fell upon the tall form of Draco Malfoy, a crestfallen look emblazoned across his face. Brushing her tears away with the back of her hand, she quickly stood up and walked away from him, her pace quickening with each step she took.

"Hermione, wait!"

His pleas fell upon deaf ears... she wasn't going to fall for his tricks again. Hermione could hear his footsteps crunching on the gravel as he ran towards her; a hand grabbed the top of her arm, attempting to halt her.

"GET OFF ME!" screamed Hermione, unbidden tears of hurt and anguish falling freely from her hollowed eyes. "Don't touch me!"

"Listen," began Draco, hastily removing his hand from her arm. "I didn't mean-,"

"How?" whispered Hermione, her voice hoarse. "How could you do this? God, I'm so stupid! I should have known you were no different."

"Look, I've changed," implored Draco, his arms itching to restrain her and hold her close.

"Leopards don't change their spots," spat Hermione, her bottom lip quivering as she attempted to stem the flow of tears. "Why did I even think for a second _you_ would? The son of a Death Eater, a Death Eater who tried to kill me no less! You made my years at Hogwarts hell!"

"Please, listen to me," began Draco again.

"So you can lie to me again?" interrupted Hermione. "No! Just leave me alone, don't ever speak to me or come near me again!"

"Hermione!"

Without so much as a second glance, Hermione turned away, her footsteps echoing off in the distance. Was revenge on Potter worth this much? Draco slumped down on to the bench that was occupied by Hermione moments ago; there was still some of her warmth clinging to the aged wood. Sighing, he brought his hands to his head, massaging his temples with his fingertips. He knew she was never going to listen to him again, she hated him now more than she ever did back at Hogwarts and who could blame her?

"Nice one Malfoy," he whispered to himself. "Daddy would be so proud."

The thought of his father filled him with a silent rage, causing his hands to ball up into angry fists. Draco would always be known as Lucius Malfoy's son, a curse that would mark him out for the rest of his days. He deserved to be cursed though after what he had done when he unwittingly served the Dark Lord two years ago... Draco couldn't remember every detail, but he knew the face of the person he killed all too well. _It wasn't your fault Malfoy. You were under the imperius curse... it wasn't your fault. _It was a shame that line of reasoning had become redundant now... it was his fault and no matter what kind of lies he tried to convince himself with it would always be his fault.

_It was like he was seeing through someone else's eyes, his body was at the will and command of someone else, all he could do was watch as he placed that hideous mask over his face. There was no point in fighting it; it hurt too much to fight it. His eyes searched around, first settling on his aunt, Bellatrix, her long hair hidden under her hood. There was his uncle, Rodolphus, his blue eyes cold, his face concealed by the same mask Draco wore. He couldn't see his father, but he could see Voldemort. Yes, there he was, his serpentine features surveying his followers. Was the Dark Lord speaking to him? It was so mute in his own mind that Draco couldn't make out what Voldemort was saying to him._

_No. He can't ask that of me. No... I won't do it._

_His protests didn't register with his body. He felt the heavy, yellow-nailed hand of Fenrir Greyback clamp down on his shoulder, turning him around. Draco couldn't hear Voldemort's words, but he could hear Greyback's._

"_Good, a second chance to finish off that weasel. He'll wish I killed him the first time."_

_Draco's legs started to walk forward, his wand drawn as he apparated with the werewolf._

"Murderer," he murmured, his mind returning to the present. The word disgusted him as it spilt from his lips.

He should feel disgusted; he professed to have changed, but that still didn't stop him from indulging in petty revenge. He led Hermione into thinking she could trust him only to throw it back in her face. Perhaps she was right... perhaps he hadn't changed at all. If that was the case then he would do what the old Draco would do... and with that he apparated, heading for the one person who would provide some kind of distraction for the thoughts and feelings that screamed out for his attention.

* * *

_A/N: End of Chapter 5! Hope you liked it. I really can't seem to get away from those damned flashbacks – I love them so much. I'm as much a Harry/Hermione 'shipper as I am a Draco/Hermione 'shipper so I guess they are in there for my own benefit too. Hopefully Chapter 6 should be up fairly soon, I'm still trying to work out where the story will go so I'm sorry if it seems rather adlibbed in places. Anyway, please feel free to drop me a mail or a review – I love hearing from people._


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